


Compliance Will Be Rewarded

by Bulmaveg_Otaku



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Manipulation, Massage, Memory Alteration, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Happy, Original Character(s), Sexual Coercion, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku/pseuds/Bulmaveg_Otaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier has performed above and beyond. The higher ups have decided to reward him for his service.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compliance Will Be Rewarded

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was going through my WIP folder figuring out a plan of attack and I found this little ditty. I wrote it almost a year and a half ago, after I first saw CA:WS and I was trying to process my Bucky feels. I never posted it because I wasn't sure how to end it and it was only 98% complete, but after rediscovering it, and having some new Bucky feels to process because of all the Civil War shenanigans going on right now, I finished it and I'm posting it so that you all can share my pain! MWAAHAHAHAHAHA!!! ;)
> 
> FYI: I "Bella Swaned" the hell out of this OFC. She has no name, no description. I usually write for the Darcyland Fandom so I considered making this AU and slapping her name on it, but that felt kind of cheap. So she is whomever you want her to be. Want to reader insert this shit, go for it! Have an OC you use for all your own stuff? Make it happen! Favorite actress? That's what she looks like. Point is, I left her blank for a reason. Do what you will.
> 
> Warning: This gets a mildly dubious consent warning because how consenting can it really be when brainwashed/conditioned people are involved. I feel like, in the end they did both make the conscious decision to follow through, but the situation is certainly questionable. Hence! Also, don't expect a happy ending on this sucker. My heart is breaking for Bucky Barnes and I want to give him all the massages and hugs and protect him from evil guys trying to hurt/control him but the fact of the matter is he has a long, hard road ahead of him. This is sort of cannonish, but I don't think it's anything that really would ever happen in the MCU so, take that for what it's worth!

  
“Mission report?”

“Target eliminated. No witnesses. No collateral damage.”

“And several hours ahead of the deadline, too. Very good work, soldier.”

The expression on the soldier’s face gave no indication that he was pleased by this praise. It gave no indication of anything.

The handler looked him over briefly before turning back to filling out his reports. “After medical checks you out, the director has approved a reward for your excellent service.”

This caused a flicker of something on that cold, blank face.

“A reward?”

The handler looked up again and nodded. “He wants you to know how much he appreciates your work. It has been a gift to all mankind. You’ve shaped the century.”

“What about the box?” There wasn’t a hint of fear in the voice, but, for someone who knew what to look for, there had been the slightest tightening around the eyes.

“You aren’t going back on ice just yet. The director needs you for another mission, one that won’t start till tomorrow, so you’ve got some time to kill.”

The Asset merely nodded. Killing was what he was good at, after all.

 

~00o00~

  
“Do you realize what you’re asking me to do?” She hissed at her brother as the other men carried her things into the room and set them on the floor. “What you’re asking me to be?”

Her brother sneered at her. “Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as doing a much needed service for someone who has been left wanting. Isn’t that the kind of shit you get off on?”

She glared at him as the men finished delivering her things and left.

“How can you think this is okay? What’s happened to you? You’ve changed so much since you began working with these… these people.” Her voice was lowered, letting the secret of her disgust slip through.

Now he was practically snarling at her. “You think I don’t know that? Look, I don’t have any choice, okay? I have a job to do, and I have to get it done. If I don’t? I could be in real trouble. Besides, you’re getting paid well, and I know you need the money.”

“That’s part of the problem, and you know it. I can’t believe you want me to…”

“Well believe it, sis. I don’t want you to, I need you to. If you refuse… Well, it’s too late to find a replacement now. It’ll be my nuts on the chopping block if you back out.”

“I never would have accepted this job if you’d told me everything it would require from the beginning. You lied to me, and you manipulated me!”

“So what if I did? I need you to do this. Are you really the kind of person who could just walk away and leave me out to dry?”

“Don’t turn this around on me, damn it! It isn’t my fault you’re in this position!” She hated the waves of guilt that he was making her feel. She knew these people, the ones her brother worked for, weren’t nice people. She knew enough to know he wasn’t exaggerating when he talked about real trouble. If she walked away now and something happened to her brother because she left…

He could see she was starting to cave. He reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders, ducking his head to look her right in the eyes. “Please, just, do what they’ve asked. It’s just one time, and nobody is going to know but us. I couldn’t tell anyone about it if I wanted to, and neither can you. Just get it over with, and take the money. You won’t have to worry about money for a while and I don’t get in trouble. Everyone wins.”

She closed her eyes, and tried to get her jaw to relax. “You’re a real asshole, you know that, right?”

He laughed and rubbed her arms lightly up and down. “You’ll stay?”

“I guess I have to, don’t I?” She sighed. Her stomach was twisted with anxiety, but she couldn’t be the one that got her brother in trouble. Besides, she’d already been given the run down on this guy’s basic physical condition. Nothing specific, but from what she’d heard about the guy her brother was right, he could definitely benefit from what she had to offer. She felt the knots in her stomach tighten a bit more.

“You’re the best!” He said with a grin and lifted his hand to ruffle her hair like he had always done when they were kids.

She stepped back and scowled at him. “Hey! Hands off the goods. I need to look my best, apparently.” She winced as she turned to unpack her things and get set up. She would stay, and she would do what he asked, but she wasn’t going to be happy about it. “You are going to owe me so big time for this…” She muttered as she went through the familiar motions.

“Sure. Just try and enjoy yourself. Don’t act like you’ve been shipped off to war or something okay. Try to give him a good time. This guy has really been put through the ringer.”

She unfolded the legs of her table and locked them in place. “Who is he, anyway?”

“That’s classified,” he said with a scowl. “Just forget I said anything. You can’t ask questions like that. Remember what I told you and you’ll be fine.”

“Right,” she said, grunting slightly as she lifted the table onto its feet. “I just do… my job and keep my mouth shut.”

“Exactly. And don’t worry. There will be men right outside in case anything goes wrong.” This was tossed out almost casually as her brother walked to the door, but it made the hair on her neck jerk to attention.

She froze and looked up at him. “What do you mean ‘goes wrong’? What could go wrong?”

He turned back looking back at her through the doorway. “Nothing’s gonna go wrong. You’re safe. I’ll be watching your back every second. Just try and enjoy yourself.”

“You’ll be watching my…” Her mouth dropped open as all the various implications of that clicked into place. “Wait, Brock, hang on!”

It was too late. He’d given her a devilish smile and shut the door in her face. The sound of the lock engaging was unmistakable. It sounded a lot like betrayal.

 

~00o00~

  
After he’d been examined thoroughly and cleared by the doctors, he’d been allowed to shower and clean up. He’d even been allowed to shave and change into a pair of loose fitting civvies. Once he was ready, he was led by two men in black tactical gear down an unfamiliar set of corridors until he reached a hallway with doors lining the both sides at regular intervals. They took him to the second door and a man in black swiped a key card and began entering a code.

Another man in black turned to take up his post on the right side of the door. He gave him a lecherous leer and said, “Have fun, soldier. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Man-in-black 1 snorted and shook his head at his companion. “Just try not to break her too bad,” he jeered. Man-in-black 2 chuckled rudely.

He felt his face bend into an involuntary frown. He wasn’t sure if it was a frown of confusion or disgust. These two men were undisciplined and crude. He kept waiting for the punchline. He couldn’t remember ever receiving a reward before. He couldn’t remember much of anything except whatever mission he had at any given time. There was only the Mission, then the machine and the box.

This reward business was new. It set him on alert. It left him off balance.

The door opened and the man on the left waved him inside. When he didn’t move right away, the goon put a hand in the middle of his back and pushed.

He had been given the order to stand down, otherwise he might have retaliated against the man who had shoved him. He might have resisted at the very least. He’d been given the order though, so he couldn’t do anything but let himself be propelled into the room.

The inside of the room was nothing like what the bleak hallway would suggest. There was plush carpet under his boots. The lights were soft, accented at several places around the room by flickering candles that seemed to be scented. He could detect the light scents of lemongrass and citrus. He could hear music playing softly. It was a classical piece; a well-tuned piano worked skillfully through cords and a sweet, reassuring melody. There was a door in one corner that opened on a small bathroom. In the center of the room was a long narrow table, or it could have been a bed. It was covered with sheets and a large, plush towel.

Next to the table (bed?) stood a woman. She was looking at him calmly, watching him silently as he took in the room. He heard the door behind him close and lock. He waited, tense and unsure.

After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, in which the woman seemed to be waiting for something from him, just as he did from her, she tilted her head and seemed to consider him carefully.

“You don’t seem very excited to be here,” she observed, finally.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He just stood, stalk still and watched her every breath, her every move. He had no mission. He had been ordered to stand down. He couldn’t attack, had no reason to, this woman didn’t appear to be any kind of threat with her soft cotton clothing and her comfortable looking lace up shoes. Her hands were clasped carefully in front of her, and he could tell they were empty.

He assessed the situation and thought over the conversation he’d had with his handler. Things began to click into place.

Finally, he found words.

“You are my reward.”

Her whole body stiffened, just for a second, before she forced herself to relax, but it was long enough for him to notice and wonder if perhaps he was mistaken.

“I’m a massage therapist,” she said and, miraculously, her voice held none of the rebuke that he could see peeking out through her eyes.

He was, if it was possible, even more confused now.

“Massage?”

“Yes, massage,” the woman said. “I take it you’ve never had a massage before.”

“No.”

He’d never even heard of it before. At least, not that he remembered.

“That’s too bad,” she said, her face easing into a sad sort of smile, “you definitely look like the kind of person that needs them.”

“Why?” he asked, maybe a little sharply. He was uncomfortable and he didn’t know what to expect, and it was making him irritable.

“Massage is used for lots of reasons,” she began carefully, taking a small step towards him, “but mostly it’s used for stress relief and for manipulation of the muscle tissue- especially for active or injured people.” She gave him a very obvious once over. “I’d say that you probably fit all three categories, right?”

He continued to frown, saying nothing.

“Strong, silent type, huh?” She said with raised eyebrows. “Okay, fine. Since this is your first time I had better start with the beginner’s spiel.”

The woman turned and gestured at the table. “I’ll step out to wash my hands while you disrobe. Once you’re undressed you lie face down here, between the sheets, with your face here.” She pointed to a c shaped cushion that extended from the top of the table.

“I’ll start with your neck and shoulders, then I do arms and back, legs and feet, abs, chest, and neck again. You’ll have to turn over half way through, but I’ll help you with that when the time comes.” She paused before continuing. “Is there any area you are uncomfortable with me touching?” She winced a little and her words started coming faster and sounding a bit nervous. “I mean, I like to do some face and head work, but not everyone likes that…”

He considered her words and her suddenly altered demeanor trying to figure out what had made her so suddenly anxious before he answered.

“My arm.”

That made sense. Of course his arm would make her nervous. He knew amputees and prosthetics had a way of doing that, advanced-cybernetic mechanical arms aside.

“Your arm?” she seemed taken aback by that and then her eyes widened. “Of course, your left arm.” Her eyes darted to the shining hand showing beneath his sleeve. “I can’t do much for that anyway,” she said with a small smile. “Anywhere else?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He felt like he was stuck in some kind surreal dream or nightmare.

“Okay, that’s fair. I’ll go slow. If you are uncomfortable at any time or if you want me to stop, just say so and I will. Sound like a plan?”

He nodded.

“Then I’ll let you get undressed,” she said and turned to walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

He watched her leave and then obediently started following her instructions.

That he could do. That he was good at.

 

~00o00~

  
She finished washing her hands, using the scalding hot water and the familiar routine of the motions to help ground her and slow her pounding heart.

_You’re my reward._

Those words had startled her. More accurately, they had stung her. Not just by virtue of the words themselves, but because of the way he’d said them. He was so cold, so matter of fact. He’d said them as though he just come to some very normal, very logically deduced conclusion. He didn’t sound surprised or excited or angry or anything. He just said it like it was true.

She supposed it was.

_You’re my reward._

His reward for what, exactly? And why did she feel like she was a piece of candy that was being given a child who’d gotten good grades on his report card. It was demeaning and ridiculous. Not just to her, but to him, as well. He obviously wasn’t jumping up and down at the thought of being rewarded, especially with her. That made her feel a little better about him, though she still couldn’t shake the uneasiness he made her feel. There was just something… wrong with him. It wasn’t just his coldness, or his lack of expression, either.

He looked like a man who was strong and dangerous. Even hidden beneath the plain tunic and sweat pants he wore she could tell he was powerfully built. He was handsome and had a great body. Guys like him were usually confident, self-centered, and cocky. Like her brother.

  
Though he moved with grace and surety, the way he acted, and the vibe he exuded was miles from that. If anything he seemed… broken. She wasn’t sure how to describe it or define it. She’d worked with clients who had mental and physical disabilities before, but this man took things to a whole new level.

She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but she knew that would only cause a multitude of problems. They were watching. She didn’t want to get her brother, or herself for that matter, in trouble.

She’d been warned. No names. No questions. No further contact after she was finished.

She was glad about that last part. She didn’t imagine she’d want the reminder of what she’d been pressured into.

She cursed her brother again as she dried her hands. Then she looked into the mirror and steadied herself. She would do this. She was good at her job. The other stuff, well, she’d just have to do her best and get it over with. She promised herself she would try to make things as easy for the man as she could.

He obviously had enough to worry about.

She waited another minute, just to give him enough time. She wasn’t stalling. Really.

Finally, she turned and opened the door slowly.

“Are you ready?” she said, making sure to keep her voice low and smooth.

There was no answer.

She waited another few seconds and then sighed. Strong, silent type indeed.

She eased around the door slowly, relieved when she found him lying face down as she’d instructed. She walked around the table and paused when her eyes rested on his exposed arm. They’d told her, of course, but seeing it was a whole other thing.

His entire left arm and deltoid were made of jointed, interweaving metal plates. It connected into the tissue of his back and shoulder in a way she would have never believed possible if she hadn’t see it herself. Though there was some fairly extensive scar tissue around the joining area, (of course there would be lots of scarring), otherwise it seemed to her like the metal flowed into the skin almost seamlessly.

She scolded herself silently for staring and determined to ignore his injury and focus on the parts of him she could help. That was her job, after all.

The sheet was bunched around his hips, and the towel lay askew across his legs. She moved slowly, but confidently. She straightened the sheet and towel over his back and went to work. She made her opening touches gentle, but firm. The tension she could feel under her hands spoke volumes. She certainly had her work cut out for her.

“It’s best if you try and relax,” she said quietly as she rubbed small, soothing circles into his back.

She felt him make an effort, and he did manage to release some of the tightness that ran the course of his body from head to toe. It was a valiant effort, though she thought it was still pretty obvious how uncomfortable he was with being touched.

She wondered then about the men that her brother worked for. What kind of reward was a massage for someone that didn’t want to be touched?

A cruel one, she thought.

She did her best, using all of her practiced skills and tried and true techniques to reassure him and help him feel good. She moved slowly, putting as much compassion and kindness into her touch as possible. Eventually, she managed to work away most of the remaining tension, because she really was good at what she did. She had the rare gift of being able to read a person’s muscles to discover just what they needed. She pressed and rubbed and kneaded, caressed and stretched the muscles in his neck and shoulders and back until, finally, he gave in and let himself sink into the soft padding of her table.

It was a very satisfying victory.

 

~00o00~

  
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt good. Of course, that was no surprise, but it seemed like such a simple thing that it left him a bit staggered, mentally. Her hands on his skin, working his muscles with oil and pressure in ways that he’d never imagined possible… It left him floating, dazed and totally out of his element.

He didn’t let that ruin the feelings of euphoria infusing his entire body, though. It was too rare an opportunity to waste. Chances were good that they would wipe this experience from his memory when the time came for him to back to the box, but for now, he was here. He could feel it, and he would remember it as long as possible.

He was out of it enough (the way she pressed her knuckles into the thick muscle of his lower back had his spine running with waves of pleasure so intense it was almost painful) that he didn’t notice she had folded down the corner of the sheet until he felt the palm of her hand start to press and release, working around the edge of his hip.

He was not used to being touched, unless it was by probing doctors, or from the punishing blows of an enemy, and this was even stranger still. As she gently rolled from the heel of her hand to her forearm as she pressed into the thick muscles of his hips and glutes.

He felt a different kind of sensation along the sensitive skin there and he couldn’t help the way his muscles contracted, tensing up once again.

She slowed and stopped her motion before easing back, not losing contact with him completely, but moving her hand back up to his side.

“Is this okay?” she asked gently. “I can stop if you want.”

He felt his throat tighten at the idea of her hands leaving him completely. It took him a few seconds, but he finally managed to find his voice, rough and thick as it was.

“Don’t stop.”

“You can tell me if this is making you uncomfortable,” she said, her voice soft and comforting.

“Its fine…” he paused. He felt compelled to reassure her. “It’s just different.”

“I’m not hurting you, or going to deep?”

“No.”

She shifted back, moving even more slowly, but resuming what she’d been doing. He used every ounce of discipline and self-control to make sure he remained relaxed and pliant under her ministrations.

Before too long he didn’t even have to work that hard at it.

She worked his glutes with precision and skill. She lifted and bent his leg carefully and moved him into a position that helped her reach deeper and more completely into the complicated mass of muscles that comprised the round curve of his backside. She pressed into the tender flesh there with hand and arm and elbow until he began to worry that the joints of his hip would simply melt away and his leg might actually fall off.

After she finished there she gently placed his leg back into a comfortable resting position, and then she moved to his calves and continued to work her magic.

When she bent his knee once again it was to work on his Achilles tendon before she moved down into his feet. Here, he actually had to suppress a moan of pleasure.

It was almost too much, too good.

He was nothing if not a master of physical endurance, however, and he could (would) endure this, too.

 

~00o00~

  
She helped him to roll over and slide down the table after she finished with the back of his legs and feet. She was only a little surprised by how relaxed he was, though he still maintained a strange kind of hyper-awareness that she could both see and feel in the way he responded to her every touch.

She was not sure how long she’d spent with him on his stomach, (She’d been told to be thorough, not quick) but it was long enough to leave red pressure lines on his face from where he’d been pressed into the face cushion. She only allowed the faintest hint of a smile over that, though. Even if his eyes were closed, she wouldn’t want him to think she was laughing at him.

She finished straightening the sheet over his shoulders to help keep him warm and moved down to his legs once more.

She spent some more time on his feet, kneading between the small, intricate bones there, working deep into the tight tendons and ligaments that so often caused people pain and discomfort. That was when she heard him make a totally involuntary noise for the first time. It was only a soft moan, but it was so different from the concise, clipped words and phrases he’d uttered so far, it took her by surprise.

He’d seemed so determined to be silent and communicate as little as possible (though his body told her so much under her fingers and hands) that she’d been sure he would be silent the entire time.

Some people were moaner and groaners. Most weren’t.

Apparently he’d surprised himself just as much, and she felt him tightening up again.

“It’s okay, you know,” she said in her soft therapist’s voice. “It just means I’m doing a good job. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

He went still, and then, finally, began to relax again. He didn’t make any more noises, though, which she was only mildly disappointed about. He did have a nice voice, rough with unused, maybe, but nice.

On second thought, it was probably better if he stayed silent. Those kinds of thoughts only made her feel awful and brought back the knots in her stomach. She’d managed to dismiss her anxiety so far, but as she progressed though the massage, getting closer and closer to finishing, the nerves came crawling back.

She finished his legs then moved up to his chest, folding the blanket down to his waist. She hoped her face wasn’t too flushed. His stomach and chest were practically a work of art, even with the marred interruption of his left shoulder. She’d cautiously avoided touching the scar tissue while she’d worked on his back which had been somewhat tricky. She’d become increasingly curious about how it was all connected, but figured it would be rude, let alone dangerous, to ask. Besides, he might not even know himself.

It was going to be a challenge to work his left pectoral without being able to get into attachment’s, but she’d just have to find a way. She could…

Her eyes drifted from her careful study of his chest to his face. His eyes were looking right back at her.

She realized she’d been caught staring after all, and if she hadn’t been blushing before, she was sure she was now.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

She squirted more oil into her hands from the bottle at her waist and let it warm before reaching to place her hands on his abdominals.

He flinched slightly under her fingers and she stilled her movements again.

“Ticklish?” she asked, curious.

Surprise, surprise, he said nothing, just continued to watch her. He did relax his stomach, though, even if he did tighten the muscles in his jaw.

She moved again, working into the thick, bunched muscles of his six-pack. She didn’t always work on abdominals, unless they were requested by a client, but they had told her to be thorough, and he looked as though his core was regularly used and abused.

She tried to be as non-invasive as possible as she worked on the vulnerable area. She worked up under his ribs, pressing the thick muscle of his diaphragm into the bone. She dug in with her elbows, giving his oblique muscles a work out. She worked along the edge of serratus anterior and into all the intercostal muscles that she could reach. Finally, she moved to his pectoral muscles, working his right first before shifting to the left.

It was a fascinating study in something totally new and foreign to her.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” She asked as she worked on striping the layers of tissue from sternum out towards his arm pit.

“Some,” he answered after only a dozen seconds pause.

She eased up on the pressure slightly. “Better?”

“Yes.”

His eyes were closed once again, for which she was grateful. She was standing over him, reaching down from the head of the table and she knew if he opened his eyes now he would get an eyeful. Then again, she thought with a derisive, bitter sneer that was supposed to be the other half of his reward.

She was supposed to give him an eyeful, and a handful, and whatever else-ful that he wanted. Which was not part her usual job. She went over a rather creative and detailed list of names that she was going to call her brother if she ever decided to speak to him again.

That served as a pretty good distraction as she finished his chest and shoulders and moved to his face and head as she wiped the excess oil of her hands with an extra towel.

She used light pressure on his jaw muscles, getting them to release the tension there. She smoothed her thumbs down over his brows, relaxing the last of his scowl from his face. With that done, she put one hand on either side of his head and began working her fingers into his scalp. She felt the soft silky locks of his hair through her fingers as she continued making slow, calming circles.

He was finally completely relaxed and his face was at rest. Since his eyes stayed shut, she looked down on him and studied his features. He could have been asleep, though she knew he wasn’t, and he looked at peace. It was a good look for him.

Examining him at leisure now, she was finally able to see how utterly beautiful he was.

_Try to enjoy yourself._

That’s had been her brother’s parting shot.

He’d always been more than a little bit of a shit. She didn’t think she could really let go, considering how awkward and totally wrong this whole situation was. Between the guilt and the thoughts of how doing what they’d told her to do and getting paid for it would make her a prostitute, and the thought that she had an audience, she felt the panic in her stomach beginning to rise and her heart rate pick up.

Still… at least he was nice to look at. Also, he didn’t seem like a total asshole, which helped, at least a little. Then there was the way he seemed just a little lost, and a little broken, and that called out to part of her that wanted to comfort this strange, damaged man and take away all his pains and troubles…

She’d made a good start with that, at least.

Under different circumstances, she would probably have let this man pick her up and the bar and take her home, right?

She figured it was time to stop making excuses for herself. She had decided to give this man her best and hopefully it wasn’t going to be all bad.

She gripped his hair between her fingers and tugged, gently but firmly pulling on his hair in a way that she knew most people found relaxing and pleasurable.

She watched as he took a deep breath, his mouth dropping open slightly and smiled.

A few more pulls and then she relaxed her hands, drawing her fingers though his hair gently, combing it and brushing it out to lie against the white fabric of the sheet beneath him. She wasn’t really sure how to proceed. She’d never done this before, and it was pretty obvious he hadn’t either.

When in doubt, her mother always used to tell her, the direct approach is best.

She walked around the side of the table, slowly, her left hand moving from his hair to his shoulder and down his right arm. She tried not to hesitate or show weakness as she placed her right hand on his hip and slowly moved her fingers under the folded top sheet.

Just as she felt the tips of her fingers brush over the course, curly hairs of his happy trail, his left arm snapped up and his hand gripped her wrist painfully, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” He growled at her.

It felt as though her heart had stopped in her chest. She looked up into his eyes, which blazed with fury. She felt surprised and pleased by the fact that she’d managed to cause such a reaction. Then her brain caught up to her hormones and she felt only fear and pain.

 

~00o00~

 

His first clue that something had shifted with the woman was her touch along his arm. The entire time she’d been giving him a massage her touch had been confident and purposeful. Even when it had been light and gentle it had never felt sexual at all.

This touch was different though. It was almost as if she was a completely different person.

Then she’d begun sliding her hand under the sheet. She’d never done that, either. She’d always carefully folded the fabric, draping it away from him and uncovered the area she intended to work on. She’d been respectful and careful to preserve his modesty. Not that he really cared about that, except that it had been different from the way he was treated by everyone else he could remember. It had set her apart in his mind and given him comfort.

This, though, this was… not right.

He grabbed her wrist and stopped her, his eyes on her face as he growled at her.

“What are you doing?”

She froze, not even jerking away from his sudden threatening movement.

She looked right back at him, her face unreadable until the fear started to creep onto it.

She gasped slightly as he squeezed her wrist slightly; reminding her that he wanted an answer.

“They told me to…” she blushed furiously, the color spreading not only over her cheeks and face, but down her neck where it disappeared into the neckline of her shirt. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m your reward.”

He watched her face as she forced her expression into neutral.

He’d known, in the back of his head, since the moment he’d been shoved in to this room that this was a possibility. He’d been so distracted by the massage, however, that he’d let his guard down. With his guard down he felt a surge of something new, something different, something he usually made a real and conscious effort to repress at all times, something that was completely unnecessary to what he was as an asset.

Lust.

_Just try not to break her too much._

That hadn’t been a reminder not to attack.

His eyes shifted to the door as he sat up and his grip on her wrist tightened unconsciously.

She let out a small whimper and tried to pull away, finally.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered and his eyes moved back to her.

He relaxed his hold, but didn’t release her.

“They want me to hurt you.”

“What?” she gasped.

“They want me to hurt you,” he repeated.

“No, that’s not…” she turned to look at the door, and then her eyes found him again. “They told me to take care of you. That’s all.”

He watched as her eyes shifted away from him again. She was afraid. She was ashamed. She didn’t want to do this.

“You don’t want to do this.”

It was a simple statement of fact.

He frowned slightly, as his confusion and distress swelled and warred with another emotion, disappointment. “You don’t want me.”

She took another deep breath and then raised her eyes to his. “I don’t not want you.” She didn’t look away this time, and caught the faintest glimpse of something else beneath her fear and shame. There was also desire there.

He’d seen the way she’d looked at him before, when she thought his eyes were closed. He’d thought she was only examining his arm, studying it. Then again, she had apologized as though he’d caught her doing something wrong. The implications of that and the look in her eyes now sent a pulse of wanting through his belly. Perhaps his disappointment was a bit premature.

He understood about sex the same way he understood how to speak or how to pilot a vehicle. He just had no living memories of ever having had sex. He couldn’t imagine it had ever been a priority for him, or the men he answered to.

Still… he was being offered the chance now. It seemed a waste to turn down someone who was offering.

On the other hand…

“They’re forcing you to be here.” This statement of fact had a bit more weight behind the implications. “Paying you to do a job.”

She stiffened and he watched her eyes fill with anger.

“I am NOT a whore. I am a massage therapist. If I’m going to seduce you it’s because I _want_ to, not because they’re _paying me_ to.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow at her.

She stood her ground, looking up at him stubbornly letting him see the determination in her eyes.

“Fine,” He said and released her wrist, swinging his legs around until he was sitting on the table, his legs hanging over the side. The sheet still covered his lap, but only just.

She looked slightly startled and took a half step back. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

She stood, stiff and angry and confused, her eyes locked obstinately on his face. After a few seconds she moved towards him and stood between his knees. She awkwardly raised her hand and placed it on his chest.

He watched her every movement, his face a mask of controlled vacancy.

She slid her hand up to his neck to lock her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. The movement was fluid only because his skin was still coated in a thin layer of massage oil. On his neck her fingers were… twitchy.

“It’s best if you try and relax,” he said, only the barest hint of mocking in his voice as he repeated her words from earlier.

Her jaw dropped then and her breath whooshed out. She stared at him then and he suspected that she was just now really seeing him for the first time.

“You aren’t exactly making this easy, you know,” she said finally. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”

He raised a skeptical brow at her and she blushed again.

“No, I mean… of course I’ve done that before, but I’ve never… seduced a man I just met. Let alone, an attractive, mysterious man who isn’t exactly easy to read.”

“You seemed just fine before,” he said choosing to ignore the attractive, mysterious part for now.

“That was different,” she said, her eyes drifting over the flesh of his neck and shoulder as if seeing it all for the first time as the body of a man instead of just a connected group of muscles and joints and flesh.

“How so?”

She shrugged then. “I don’t know, it just is. My mind works differently when I do massage. It’s always been that way. Even though it’s all about making someone feel good… I have to keep it all separate in my head, otherwise I’d get turned on every time I had a good looking guy on my table.”

“But you don’t?”

“No.”

“Just with me?”

Her breath hitched a bit and she let her eyes drop to his lips.

“I guess you’re special,” she said finally, looking back into his eyes.

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“I guess just… tell me if you want me to stop,” she said, using her own words to tease him as she pulled herself closer.

With her right hand on his neck she pulled him down as her other hand moved up to rest on his chest and she kissed him.

Her lips were soft and tasted of mint and water and they danced over his with the lightest pressure. She moved her bottom lip, ever so slightly, against him and tilted her head so that her lip brushed over his mouth lengthwise.

Her fingers curled both in his hair and on his chest and he felt the careful pull of her short nails over his skin.

He didn’t know if she was being gentle so as not to spook him, or if she was simply shy, but her light touches were certain to tease him to death if they continued.

She flicked her tongue out then, the quickest of touches against his upper lip. He steadied himself as he gripped his knees with both hands and resisted the urge to crush her to his chest and take her.

After a few more moments of her mouth fluttering over his and her fingers doing dangerous things to his composure, she pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes from only a few inches away.

“Are you ready?” Her words breathed against his tingling lips.

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her in tight, careful not to hurt her, but pressing her against him.

“Are you?”

This time he kissed her back.

 

~00o00~

  
She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him pull her onto the table. With a twist and a tumble she was lying on her back beneath him as he used his mouth on hers in a way made her stomach twist into knots of a different variety.

His body pressed down into hers and she let the heat of his flesh melt into her.

All her awkwardness, all her shame, seemed to vanish then and she let her more primal urges rise to the surface.

She opened her mouth to him and pressed her tongue into his mouth letting them twine together in a wet, hot slide.

She pulled on his hair and gripped his shoulders and simply let herself luxuriate in the sensation of him under her hands. He raised his left arm to cradle it behind her neck while his right hand moved down to her hip where he kneaded and gripped her with just as much skill and purpose as she had shown him earlier.

She let her back arch up and pushed against his hand, asking for more as she sighed into his mouth.

His fingers obliged by sliding up under the hem of her shirt. The calloused tips of those fingers burned rough patterns into the skin of her stomach as she writhed against him.

She let her head fall back, and she took several gasping breaths as he moved his mouth onto her now exposed neck.

His mouth, so closed off before, moving only when absolutely necessary, now burst into a flurry of movement as he nipped and licked and sucked on her skin, devouring her as thoroughly as she’d ever been devoured.

She moaned against his head as she lifted her face again to kiss his hair and his temple and his cheek, seeking to alleviate the growing need she felt to have her mouth on him, to touch him.

When the trail of his kisses met the collar of her polo shirt he made a small sound of protest that had her wanting to giggle like a teenager.

She didn’t though. She somehow managed to resist.

She slipped a hand down between them and grabbed the bottom of her shirt. There wasn’t a lot of room on her table, it was little bigger than a twin bed, so it was slightly awkward and there was quite a bit of fumbling involved, but, between the two of them, they managed to get her shirt off.

Her bra came off next, and then his hand and mouth were on her breasts and her brain was swarmed with a million different cliché’s: perfect fit, made for his hands, seeing stars, fireworks, and so many more.

“Oh wow,” she said and arched her back, pressing her breasts closer to him. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him, and was struck by how much she wanted to know his name (no names!).

She wrapped her left leg over his and pressed her foot into the table to get more leverage. The sheet was still between him and her and she wondered dizzily if the sheet was feeling the same insistent urge she was to cling to this man and his incredible form.

“Pants!” she gasped and pressed her hips into his, feeling his desire despite the layers of fabric between them.

“What?” he asked, lifting his head from her chest with a dazed expression and red, swollen lips. She almost came right then.

“Pants off,” she panted. It was all she could do to form words. It was unbelievable the effect he was having on her, but she wasn’t about to complain.

Somehow, she managed to push him back far enough that she could slide off the table, fumbling with the button on her slacks. The lack of his skin on hers was maddening. She began to worry that this sudden, irrational need for him was going to be a serious problem.

She finally managed to get her button un-buttoned and her zipper unzipped and she shoved her pants and underwear off so fast her head was swimming when she stood back up.

His glazed expression seemed to have focused somewhat as he watched her and she shivered under the decidedly predatory look he gave her as she kicked off her shoes, socks, pants, and panties all in one go.

She grabbed the sheet and slid under it. Part of her brain recalled her brother’s words about watching her back. It was part she tried to ignore, for the most part, but she didn’t want anyone else getting more of a show then was absolutely necessary.

She slid next to him, skin to skin from shoulders to toes, and wrapped her arms around his chest. She’d been gone for less than twenty seconds, but it had been too long. Their lips met again, slower this time. The panicked rush she’d felt seemed to vanish now that she was in his arms. Time seemed to stand still them as she looked into his eyes.

They were no longer blank, as they’d been when she’d first met him. Now they burned with a blue-hot passion as his eyes moved over her. His hand followed where his eyes went, over her side, down over her thigh to pull her knee up around his hip, then back. The touch of his hand as it brushed over her breast sent shivers of lightning through her. Then he was pulling her close, his hand in her hair and they were kissing again.

Only kissing seemed too normal, to bland a word for what their mouths were doing now. He made love to her with his mouth, using every inch of his pouty lips, his perfectly imperfect teeth, and his tongue to drink her in completely.

His mouth was wet and hot, and she thought, perhaps, that this was going to be the end of her.

His leg pressed up between hers and he skillfully maneuvered his way between them. His weight on her seemed the only thing keeping her from floating away. He rocked back on his knees and reached down to spread her legs wider.

Never breaking their kiss he gripped the shaft of his cock and placed it at the opening to her pussy.

“Is this okay?” he asked gently. “I can stop if you want.”

She felt her throat tighten at the idea of his hands and lips and body leaving her forever. It took her a few seconds, but she finally managed to find her voice, rough and thick as it was.

“Don’t stop.”

He pushed into her, slowly, filling her all the way to the brim.

“I’m not hurting you, or going to deep?”

“No.”

She felt dizzy and light headed as he began to move more quickly, his thrusts long and deep and fluid.

She moved her mouth to his jaw, her lips and teeth and tongue tasting the smooth skin there, and feeling the angle of his face and his neck. She sucked an earlobe into her mouth and nibbled on it delicately and his hips gave a sharp jerk, making her gasp as the sudden change of pace.

He pressed deep then, grinding his hips into hers as he brought them, impossibly, even closer. Her whole body shuddered with the pleasure of it and she let her head fall back as she moaned.

“I guess that means I’m doing a good job,” he said, his face perfectly straight.

This time she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m on to you,” she said, whispering in his ear as he went back to moving in and out of her.

He gazed down into her eyes and said nothing.

“Under that… silent, brooding exterior…” she panted as she worked to make her brain give her the words she wanted. “You’ve a really… wicked… sense of humor.”

His mouth gave the slightest of twitches. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking at the mouth in question; studying it, like it was the answer to every question.

She felt warm affection spread through her chest at seeing that almost smile. It was a very surprising sensation, under the circumstances, and one she knew was so very, very dangerous. This man and all his mystery would be leaving her room as soon as they were finished, and she would never see him again. The pressure of the pleasant warmth in her chest burst with a stab of pain that was just plain unacceptable.

She closed her eyes against the affection, the danger, and the pain and focused only on the pleasure. With violent denial, she pulled down on his neck and lifted her face to meet his once more. She kissed him for all she was worth, putting everything she could, every possibly joy, every potential moment of good she could ever hope to give to this messed up man into this one passionate moment.

Their tongues curled and thrust and parried as did their hips, mirroring and mocking all at the same time. She moved beneath him and around him with undulating hips and lips. She used teeth and pelvic muscles to nip and tease and tighten around him. She pulled and pressed and drew her nails, short though they were, over his skin and through his hair and along all the sensual lines of his body.

She let herself get lost in the haze of lust and desire of being there, in that moment, with him, feeling everything and savoring the time for as long as she could.

When she could no longer put off catching her breath, she tipped her head back again and gasped for air, panting and moaning in a way that was only partly from oxygen deprivation. Her breathing quickened and her back arched.

He slid one arm under her back and another around her shoulders and held her tight, molding her to him as he pressed his face into the curve of her neck and quickened his thrusts as his hot breath ghosted along her skin. She clung back, her fingers digging into the straining muscles of his back once again, and she spared a thought to regret undoing all her hard work, and then she was coming.

It had built up slowly, low in her belly, tense and taut, and then, with a cry, all that burning, aching pleasure was shattering into a million swarming, spinning little tingles and shuddering waves of warmth and joy. He slowed his pace, but didn’t stop as he held her while she trembled and jerked with tiny little aftershocks and orgasmic spasms. She moaned low and long as all the tendrils of feel good melted along her stomach and spine.

As soon as she had come back enough to recognize her brain as part of her body again, she started running her fingers through his hair and moving her hips in rhythm with his again. He made an indistinguishable noise against the skin of her throat, more felt then heard, and she didn’t know whether to classify it as a growl or a groan or a grunt…

She had noticed his ability to make her brain traipse off on fuzzy tangents of unfocused thought and wanted to both fight her mind’s inclination to drift on pleasure overloaded hazes and to give into letting herself become whatever he would make of her. It was a stupid argument between parts of her self that were only functioning at half capacity, at best, as it was.

She forced herself to focus on him, and resisted being swept away. She used her fingers to move over his back and shoulders in sensual little sweeps and rhythmic traces of light almost tickling touch. She bent her head to find the top of his shoulder and she moved her face over it with soft kisses and nuzzles and brushing grazes from her checks and nose and forehead.

His pace slowed again, moving to long, steady press of his cock inside her and leaned back to look into her eyes. She felt her breath catch at the expression on his face. It seemed his stoic mask had been shattered and behind it was a look filled with such wonder and sorrow, joy and dread, that she felt her heart clench once again. The tightness in her chest and the flood of emotion that overtook her then spilled out through her eyes and she felt the warm lines of tears as they trailed down her cheeks.

He held her tighter, a disapproving scowl creasing his forehead. He moved down her body, his lips on her neck and down, over her décolletage, licking a brief greeting to her collar bone before moving to her breasts. His ministered to them with his whole mouth, not just lips, but teeth and tongue and breath.

She sighed as the lightning whispers of ecstasy danced between her pebble hard nipples and her still warm, pulsing core. She could feel the swell of pressure building again and she heard the whimper of surrender escape her throat.

The sound seemed to spur him on and began to pound into her in earnest, a man on a mission, with a very specific goal in mind.

She locked her ankles behind his back and pulled him in tighter, supporting him as he drove into her over and over.

She tried to keep her voice low, her cries and moans as quiet as she could, but the force of his body moving at this new angle wrung the volume from her, till she could no longer be surprised by the pornographic noises filling the room.

Part of her hoped he would never stop. The rest of her knew it wouldn’t be long before their physical limitations were reached. His attention to her breasts drifted as he neared his climax. His timing fell out of sync and his hips stuttered against hers. She urged him on with her body, tightening around him and arching closer to him with every inch of sweat slicked skin she could press to him.

Just before he came, she felt her second orgasm hit her, this one a lazy rolling of pleasure deep within her, like the cresting of a wave over a fathomless ocean.

He was right behind her, the helpless grunt of surprise rushing out right next to her ear where he was pressed to her, cheek to cheek. She felt the warm spread of him inside her and had a kneejerk moment of panic.

They had assured her after her own very thorough (and invasive) medical exam that he was clean of all disease and she knew that she’d had her birth control shot only the month before, but it still left her with a moment of instinctual concern.

She brushed those thoughts away for now and let her body relax beneath his, going limp and pliant as she tried to just enjoy the afterglow and revel in the weight of his body against hers.

After a minute or two he shifted slightly, his lips pressing one, gentle kiss just below her ear.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She nodded quickly and then let her temple fall against his.

“My pleasure,” she sighed, just as quietly and pressed her hands against the curve of his shoulder blades with a swift, reassuring squeeze.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, and rolled away, and the lack of him was sending her into another emotional spiral. She fought against all her emotions as she pulled the sheet to her chest and tucked it under her arms. She sat there, waiting as he climbed off the table and dressed quickly and efficiently.

He kept his back to her now, but she knew, without a hint of doubt that his face was once again a blank slate with his eyes cold and his jaw clenched as tight as the door on a mausoleum. She forced her own expression to stone, but couldn’t stop the precession of tears that continued down her face, one right after the other.

Once he was dressed, he turned towards the door and she had a heart-stopping jolt of fear that he would leave without looking back, without saying goodbye. It was a stupid fear and she hated it, but it was also groundless as he paused and then turned back to step next to her side.

She didn’t want to see that cold look on his face, so she stared at his neck, at the still flushed and glowing skin that peaked over the line of his shirt. Motion soon drew her gaze as he lifted his right hand and then his fingers were on her face, wiping away her tears.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asked and she felt surprise dance across her face and her eyes jerked up to meet his as he turned her words back to her one last time.

They weren’t the cold and dead eyes she had feared. Instead they held soft warmth, gratitude tinged only slightly with the regret of impending loss.

“Some,” she answered after only a dozen seconds pause.

His leaned over, slowly as if he didn’t wish to spook her and brushed his lips over hers. It was almost not a kiss at all, but it was more than she’d hoped for. It was all she could have hoped for. It was a perfect goodbye.

“Better?” he whispered as he leaned away from her.

She felt the corners of her lips twitch up slightly and a resigned sort of sad contentment edged out a lot of the pain and loss she was feeling.

“Yes.”

He nodded once. His thumb gave one last pass over her now drying cheek and then he was pulling away, turning, and leaving.

He knocked once. The door opened, and then he was gone.

 

~00o00~

  
The Asset ignored the leers and jeers on the faces of the men in black as he was lead down twisted hallways and through cold spaces until he was locked in a small dark room and told to sleep. He was informed that they would come for him in six hours.

 

~00o00~

  
She had just finished dressing, careful to keep herself as hidden as possible from any potential watching eyes when they came for her.

 

~00o00~

  
He lay under the shadows of his cell and recalled the way the woman’s touch had woken something long buried and dormant, the way her body made him feel more real, more true that he had, maybe ever. He let himself remember the way her face looked when he had wiped away her tears and kissed her goodbye.

 

~00o00~

  
She was still screaming for her brother when they strapped her into the chair. She wasn’t really surprised when he never came. No one came.

 

~00o00~

  
After four hours, he forced the things he felt to recede back to the place they’d been buried before. With a tingle, like a phantom limb falling asleep, he once more became the stone cold, efficient machine that would soon be given a new mission to carry out. It hurt.

It was a good thing the asset was also good at ignoring pain.

 

~00o00~

  
After the Triskelion fell and the Potomac burned with the debris of project Insight, the Soldier found a quiet, secluded place to assess his injuries. Aside from his dislocated shoulder and some superficial cuts and bruises, he was basically unharmed. Physically.

Mentally, he was a hurricane of doubts and questions and rage. He felt completely uprooted, as though the entire world had fallen out from under his feet. Just like when he fell from the helicarrier, he felt weightless, anxious with adrenaline and fear.

_Till the end of the line… the man on the bridge… I knew him..._

He just wondered if, when he hit the metaphorical water, he’d be able to swim, or if this time he would drown.

He was already feeling overwhelmed by the fragments of memories that flooded him and all the caustic, too intense emotions that they brought with them.

_You’re a punk… jerk..._

He put his shoulder back in place using a strip of torn sheet wrapped around a bit of exposed pipe and then acquired some new clothes to help him blend in. His weapons and armor went into an easily acquired backpack and he found himself taking advantage of the after-event chaos surging through the halls of the George Washington University Hospital.

He followed the compulsion to check on the blond man (I’m your friend! You’re my mission!) and, since he had nowhere else to be just now, he let it pull him along the brightly lit corridors bustling with doctors and patients and hospital staff.

_I thought you were dead… I thought you were smaller..._

He is there when they bring the man out of surgery, using the confusion and his knowledge of people’s expectations to blend into the crowd.

The man is unconscious, as he’s wheeled into a small room and hooked to an assortment of complicated looking machines. He watches from down the hallway for a minute or two before he’s forced to slip casually into another patient’s room when the man with the wings and the woman with the red hair arrive.

He stays just long enough to eavesdrop on the doctor’s explaining that the man is stable, healing rapidly, doing better than could reasonably be expected and then he’s drifting away, careful to remain unseen.

As he approaches the elevator he passes one of the reception desks that stands sentinel at the intersection of hall across from the elevators, and as he passes it, face turned into the shadow of his hooded sweatshirt he hears a voice that grabs at his memories with tendrils of insistent pressure.

“Please, could you just check for me one more time? His name is Brock Rumlow. He’s my brother. He worked in that building, and I’m afraid he was there. Please! I haven’t been able to get a hold of him and he…” the woman at the desk was babbling, tears in her eyes and her voice quavering as she begged the nurse to help her.

“I don’t have anyone by that name listed, ma’am, but we haven’t been able to identify some of the patients. We’re still trying to manage the overflow, so you’ll have to wait. We can have someone call you if he turns up,” the nurse informed the distraught woman, her tone firm but sympathetic.

He must have hesitated because the woman’s eyes were drawn to his. He felt his heart skip. He knew those eyes, filled with tears, that face…

Her gaze went past him after only a second, no trace of recognition on her face as she turned back to the nurse. “Can I stay here and wait? Please?”

He pushed on, a painful clench in his chest flaring bright and sharp. That woman, he knew her. There were flashes in his memory of pleasure and kindness and peace, all mixed with a touch of sadness. Soft lips, warm hands, a tight, liquid embrace between firm thighs…

But she didn’t recognize him at all.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curse karma, and irony and scream his frustrations to the sky. Instead, he pressed the elevator call button.

Turning his face away from the men exiting he waited for it to empty out before stepping inside and pressing the button for the lobby. As he waited for the doors to close he heard the men approach the woman and begin talking to her.

“Miss Rumlow?”

“Yes?”

“Would you come with us please?”

“Why? Who are you? I’m waiting to find my brother.”

“Please, come with us. Your compliance will be rewarded.”

There was a pause as the doors began to close. Before they shut completely though, he heard one last thing to make his blood run cold.

“I’m happy to comply.” 


End file.
